


Affinity

by twinsarein



Category: Smallville, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinsarein/pseuds/twinsarein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean comes to a town to get rid of a spook alone, only to find some unexpected help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affinity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkfinity](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=pinkfinity).



> Vague spoilers for S4 of Smallville and for the first two seasons of SuperNatural

Dean roars into town and parks the Impala right outside what looks like the only coffee place in this burg. And one of the only places open in this teeming metropolis. Looking at his watch, Dean snorts. It's only six o'clock, but it looks as if almost everything else is closed down. Giving a last caress to his baby's dashboard, Dean gets out and starts for the…

Dean glances at the marquee above his head. …The Talon. Before he takes more than two steps, a stunning, and tall, brunet yells something and waves at him from the other side of the street. Dean checks behind him and sure enough the guy has got to be trying to get his attention. Only…who in the hell is Coach Teague?

The man comes closer and Dean's mouth starts watering. He doesn't think he's ever seen anyone look as good. Taller than he is by a good several inches, broad shoulders, defined biceps, huge hands. God, the way those hands would feel on him, and the things that he wants to do to that body have only been legal in Kansas for about a year. Fuck watering, he's going to start drooling any second if he isn't careful. That won't help him get into this man's bed.

"Hi, Coach. I thought you were out of town this weekend, but I'm glad you're not. I wanted to thank you again for letting me try out for the team. I'm really looking forward to playing." The last is said distractedly to the car, instead of to Dean. The beautiful man had turned towards the Impala and was currently bent over looking through the driver's side door.

Dean's enjoying the view, but he's also torn. He has no idea who 'Coach' really is, not even what sport he's the coach of, so if Dean plays along he could get caught out pretty damn fast. But, if the locals think they know him, they might open up faster than to a stranger. Dean blows a mental raspberry. As if there's any doubt about what he'll do.

Dean shrugs casually just as the guy turns around to look at him. "Plans canceled at the last minute, unfortunately. No problem about the tryout, dude. You'll be a real asset to the team." Jesus, the guy's an asset just standing there. Ass. Mmmm, yeah, he's got a fucking fantastic ass.

The stranger looks at him a little oddly, but then cranes his neck around to check out Dean's baby again. "That's a cool car, Coach. When'd you get it?"

Dean smiles. He likes it when his car gets the admiration it deserves. Another point in this man's favor. Not that he needs another one. Fuck, he wishes he could ask the guy's name. Definitely a drawback to pretending to already know him. Dean's resourceful, though, he'll figure it out. "I've had it for a while; I just don't often drive it around here. She's a beaut, isn't she?"

Running a hand over the sun-warmed roof, the gorgeous brunet nods his head and looks at Dean with eyelids at half-mast. Oh ho. Dean blinks at the blatant once-over he gets from the other man while nodding his agreement.

"Coach, you look a little different. I can't put my finger on it, though."

Dean wets his lips and watches the taller man track the move. "Is it a good change?"

Rubbing his stomach in an absent-minded way, the guy nods his head. "Yeah. I…like it. You look…good. Real good. I…I…"

Dean thinks the stammering is cute and is about to invite the man to go for a ride – he's already planned on how he'll smirk and wink when he says the word ride – when a perky blonde come up and bumps her shoulder into the guy's arm.

"Hi, Clark. Coach Teague; I like the new 'do, the darker color works for you, too. Clark, I have some more intel on the new Freak of the Week. Want to come get a cup of coffee with me so we can talk about it? Lana's out of town for the weekend, visiting her Aunt Nell, so maybe this'll keep you from mooning over her. Coach, you're welcome as well. If you plan on staying in this town for any length of time, it's better that you that you learn about Smallville's weirdness sooner rather than later."

Clark – heh, Dean has a name – looks down at the small blonde and smiles a little tightly. Dean can't blame the guy after the mooning crack. "Sure, Chloe. Sounds good. You wanna come, Coach?"

Yes, Dean wants to come, but he figures that his version of the word isn't quite what Clark means. "Is there pie?"

Clark turns a blinding smile in his direction, and Dean blinks in reaction to the sight. Holy shit! The guy looks even better when he smiles. "You're in for a treat, Coach. I saw my mom deliver three of her pies just a little while ago. If you hurry, there should be some left."

Wait. What? "Your…mom?"

"Yeah. She just got the job as manager of The Talon."

"Good for her, Dude. Clark." That makes sense. Clark still lives in the same town as his mom. Dean can't throw stones after all, considering how he lives. Sending a small smile back at him, Dean follows them into the coffee shop. He'd thought this was going to be a humdrum salt and burn stop, but as he stares as the two tight asses preceding him into the shop he realizes that he'd seriously underestimated the charm of the local yokels. He wonders if they'd be up to a threesome.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Thirty minutes and two slices of the world's best pie later, Dean is much more pleasantly inclined to this small town than when he'd first driven in. He's well fed, he's looking at two of the most beautiful people he's seen in a long time, and just sitting here he's gathered more information than he ever could have gotten from the library when it opens tomorrow.

Some of it he's not sure what to do with. All this stuff about meteor freaks, for example. Chloe had started by telling him about some of the past freaks they'd dealt with as soon as they'd sat down.

Werewolves, demons, and ghosts – fine. Dean's on board with those. But, a girl that eats the entire contents of her kitchen and still craves more, a boy that's so cold he can freeze people? Dean figures Chloe's pulling his leg, and just goes along with it. The girl 'freak' probably had a serious eating disorder that a small-town population wouldn't know much about and the boy one probably had anemia or something.

Dean isn't sure what to make of a bug boy or girl who could teleport, but figures that it was probably mass hysteria – like in Salem, Massachusetts during the witch trials. As if any self-respecting witch would have let anyone lay a hand on them, let alone put them to death. At least not without a serious fight that would have left no one in doubt of exactly what they were or could do. He perks up when she starts talking about the current Freak of the Week, though. And, yes, Dean can hear the capitals in the term.

From the way she describes it, it sounds like the ghost he's looking for. He's not sure why she and Clark are willing to overlook something as basic as a spook for the improbable meteor freak. Still, the things she describes jives with what he'd learned before coming here. People in a certain graveyard at night are getting frightened out of their wits. The wusses. It's not like they'd been hurt.

In fact, the worst that's been reported, so far, is a few stubbed toes and abraded palms as people tripped over the smaller grave markers. That's unusual in a haunting, but since the hunting has been slow recently, Dean had decided to come to town, find out more about it, and put the spook out of its misery. And everyone else's. Besides, his dad is laid up with a broken ankle, courtesy of one of their hunts, and Dean had been bored.

He does learn some other helpful stuff, too. Dean now knows that the Coach's first name is Jason, that the whole damn town seems to think the football team is going to go all the way this year, and Clark's last name is Kent and Chloe's is Sullivan. Even better, he'd found out where the graveyard is that the spook he's after is haunting, the probable last name he'd need to look for on a headstone, and even where the grave of the person is. No one seemed to know his first name, unfortunately. Everyone only knew him by his nickname - 'Kindly Old Librarian Brown.'

He's particularly proud of learning those last bits, especially after Chloe's reveal of earlier. He hadn't wanted her to go off on her freak tangent again. A couple of cautious questions to one of the hicks who'd sat down to 'shoot the breeze' and Chloe had whipped out her laptop and was researching all kinds of things. None of them about freaks. Apparently, Dean had succeeded in making it sound different enough not to trip her fixation.

She's at least as good as Sammy was, and with the kid off in Stanford, Dean and his father could use someone with her skills. Even with some her crazy theories she'd still be helpful. Dean wonders if she'd chuck the small-town life and come with him if he phrased it right. She isn't giving off any vibes about being interested in him, but he can live with that, especially with the vibes he's getting from Clark.

He hasn't learned what Clark is good at yet, but he's really hoping for a particular set of skills at this point. The looks they've been sharing almost have Dean at the end of his rope. He's got some extra time now, thanks to the locals' information, and he really wants a taste…

"Kent, come with me. Excuse us, Chloe. Secret football play I just thought of." Dean grabs a couple of napkins and then turns and walks off, heading for the back door without waiting for a reply from either of them. He doesn't know exactly where the exit is, but he doubts it'll be that hard to find. He doesn't bother to look behind him; he knows Clark will follow him; the guy's too nice not to.

Stepping out into the back alley, Dean walks a few yards from the light above the door, so he's encased in shadows, and leans back against a wall. Clark exits just a second later. "What's up, Coach? I don't think I'll be much help; I haven't even played one game yet, and I'm not in the starting line-up, anyway."

Dean growls and fists his hands into the taller man's shirt, twisting them both and pushing Clark back into the wall he'd just been leaning against, enjoying the look of surprise and small flare of desire on the other man's face. "Don't play games, Kent. After the looks we've been sharing, I'd think it'd be pretty obvious what I want."

With the angle Clark has fallen backwards at, his lips are at the perfect height for Dean's own. He takes immediate advantage of that fact; cutting off Clark's, "What do you mea—" by covering the tempting mouth with his own.

Clark jerks against him and brings his hands up. They don't land at first, and Dean can kind of feel them hovering over his shoulders. With the tension in the big body under him, Dean's sure he's about to be pushed away when the heavy hands finally do land on him. They clench tight for a moment, tight enough for Dean's bones to creak, but then instead of pushing they're pulling him in and sliding down his back to mold him to the tall brunet's body.

Clark's response to the intrusion of Dean's tongue is tentative at first, but he quickly begins to give Dean a run for his money. Dean's cock is hardening rapidly in his jeans in reaction.

Grinding his hips forward, Dean's gratified by the way Clark moans into his mouth. When he reaches down to cup Clark's ass in his hands and squeeze, the other man jerks again, cracking the back of his head into the brick wall and breaking the seal of their lips. Crumbled brick rains to the ground, but Dean doesn't think too much of it. Construction in these small towns isn't always the best.

"Coach! That's…that feels…good…so good."

"You ain't felt nothing yet, Kent." Hurriedly unzipping their respective jeans, Dean wraps a hand around both their erections and squeezes tight. More brick rains down when Clark reacts to the new sensation. Dean quickly establishes a rhythm, one that stutters when Clark's huge hands grip his head and tilt it up for another kiss.

Dean recovers quickly and both men moan when he swipes his thumb over the crown of both cocks. "God, Coach! H-harder."

"Damn straight I'll do it harder. You just hold on for the ride." Dean starts jacking them both in earnest, enjoying the slide of their flesh together, as well as the pressure from his hand squeezing them tight.

"Coach! G-god, Coach. Yeah."

Dean is surprised to feel a small twinge of dissatisfaction. "My name, Clark. Use my name."

"J-Jason. So good. Please, Jason. More."

Dean buries the small feeling of disappointment at not hearing his real name. He isn't sure why, he almost never does get to hear it during these moments.

Clark's big paws fumbling their way under Dean's shirt, wrapping around his waist, thumbs rubbing at the sensitive skin of his lower belly, makes his disappointment…if not fade, at least hide away for now.

Speeding up his hand on their erections, Clark is the first one to come, faster that Dean would've thought, but after he does, Dean can stop holding back on reaching his own pleasure. The feeling of warmth from Clark's release and the sharp smell of it on the air helps, and he's soon spilling over his fist as well.

Panting, both men rest their forehead against the other's shoulder. A few seconds of that closeness is all that Dean can take, so he straightens up and cleans off his hand with the napkins he'd stuffed in his back pocket earlier. Tossing them in the dumpster nearby, he tucks himself in and watches as Clark does the same.

"Coach…what…why did…will things…change, now?"

Dean shrugs and turns to go back inside, stamping down hard on the surprising thought that yes, he would like things to change, he'd like to have more than a moment in time with Clark. "Dude, don't be a girl about it. It was just some fun between men. Let's head back in and see if the lovely Chloe waited for us."

"Oh…o-okay."

Dean does not feel bad about the lost sound of that voice. He doesn't. Feeling bad about quickie sex isn't something he does. Pushing that reaction down alongside his dissatisfaction at not hearing his name earlier and his crazy fantasy of more, he goes back inside with Clark.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Shouldering his duffle and a shovel, Dean stealthily makes his way through the graves. Based on what the terrorized people had reported in the newspaper and what Chloe had been able to add, he was looking for a gravestone with a large statue of a man in a humble pose. The guy had been one of the wealthier members of the town, so even though he hadn't gone the mausoleum route, he had gotten one of the tallest tombstones in the cemetery.

Still, it's harder to find than he thought it would be. There are a lot of old, and therefore tall, trees in the cemetery, obscuring the statue-cum-headstone he's looking for; also the place is bigger than he'd thought it would be. One good thing, it's late enough that a full moon is high in the sky now, illuminating everything.

He's having a hard time focusing on the ghost he's trying to find. He keeps flashing back to the unhappy face of Clark Kent. The guy had tried to act normally after they'd got back to the table and Chloe, but he'd obviously been having a hard time.

Dean doesn't get it. A grown man knows the score, and he wouldn't have followed him out to the alley if he hadn't wanted it. Dean ignores the little voice that reminds him that Clark thought he was his coach, a man he obviously trusts. Winchesters don't do twinges of conscience, at least he and his dad don't. Besides, it's not like he'd forced the guy; Clark's more than strong enough to have pushed him away and kept him away – not that Dean would've pressed the issue after that.

Shaking off the recent memories, Dean tries to refocus on the task at hand. Even though this spook isn't a vicious one, there might be other dangers out in the dark. He doesn't want to be caught unawares by anything else that might be out here, right now.

In addition to the other things obscuring parts of the cemetery, it's also a little hilly. Not too bad, this is Kansas after all, but enough to hide parts of the place from other parts. He does know he's looking for a high point, just not which one.

After about five more minutes of walking, Dean hears voices. He can't help but snort disgustedly – thrill seekers, out to get scared by the spook. They'll really complicate things; Dean'll have to get rid of the spook without hurting the civilians, especially if the ghost gets it into his head to use them as a means to distract Dean from his job.

Using a large tree as cover, Dean peers around, then starts to curse in his head. Clark's on the ground not fifty feet away. A guy is standing over him threateningly and the spook… The spook is hovering with its legs actually in him. Dean can see where the ghost's legs disappear through Clark's shoulders, and he can even see a bit of a foot poking out of Clark's lower spine. That's never good. Dean doesn't understand why the ghost isn't going after both people, why he's standing motionless in Clark, but he can tell that both beings around Clark are a threat.

The ghost is obvious, but with the way Clark's holding out a shaking hand to the guy in front of him, Dean would say that he's a threat, too. Moving as silently as possible, Dean starts creeping towards the trio. His focus is complete, now, and when he gets close enough, he quietly puts down his duffle while he crouches behind a double-wide gravestone.

Gripping the shovel firmly, Dean leaps out swinging. The iron dissipates the ghost for the moment and Dean follows through so that it also connects with the guy's head. He drops like a stone. Just that quickly, it's over – well, the problems the two were causing Clark anyway. He still has a grave to dig and remains to burn, all while the ghost is present and presumably going to try and stop him. At least, now that he's dissipated him.

If he'd been able to just come in, dig up the remains, and salt and burn them, the ghost might have left him alone. How much trouble would a ghost have been who'd been known in life as 'Kindly Old Librarian Brown'. Dean sighs. Story of his life. Even the easy ones get complicated.

"Jeez, Coach, what did you do?"

Right. Clark is still here, too. Dean narrows his eyes as he takes the other man in. He doesn't look at all scared about what had just happened. In fact, he looks completely unaffected. He should at least look cold after having a spook standing in him for who knows how long. Weird. Dean shakes it off; he has something else to think about right now. "Don't worry about it, Clark. You should get out of here. I have things well in—"

Dean struggles not to lose consciousness after being thrown twenty feet into a tree, then sliding down the trunk until the unseen force stops him. He fights to get free, his feet only inches from the ground, but is effectively pinned. "Shit!"

Seeing the ghost coming towards him, slowly, tauntingly, he knows he's screwed. He'd dropped the shovel when he'd been jerked off his feet. This ghost…no, poltergeist…doesn't look very kindly right now. Clark's too far away to do any good, especially once the spirit picks up speed, a look of unholy glee on its face.

Bringing his arms up to cover his upper body and face, Dean braces uselessly for an impact…that never comes. Instead, he drops to the ground. Lowering his hands, Dean looks incredulously at Clark brandishing the shovel. Fuck, he looks sexy when he's all determined, his biceps rippling with the grip he has on the shovel. Dean shakes the thought off. This isn't the time. He needs to get his mind off sex. Dean snorts to himself at the idea of him not having sex on the brain. He's so screwed. "How the hell…? How did you get here fast enough? There's no way you should've been able to get here in time."

Looking uncomfortable, Clark shrugs his shoulders. "I must have been closer than you thought."

Dean looks at the other man in disbelief and shakes his head. "No. You were still back there, where the guy I clobbered still is, after the kindly poltergeist started charging me. You'd have had to grab the shovel and run fifty feet in a second or less."

Glaring at the other man, Dean lets him squirm for a few seconds. Clark's obviously trying to come up with another lie, but not having any luck. "Look, Clark, don't bother. I know what I saw, but if you don't want to say, then just tell me to butt out. No need to make such a production of it. Behind you!"

Clark swings around, with the shovel up, and buys them a few more seconds. "What's going on, Coach? What is that thing and what's the shovel doing to it?"

It's Dean's turn to shrug. "It's a ghost, more specifically a poltergeist, and the shovel is made of iron which dissipates it temporarily."

"So, what do we do to get rid of it permanently?"

Dean's surprised at the speed which Clark appears to accept what he's saying. Dean feels an unexpected surge of arousal at the belief being shown him by someone who isn't family. He just wishes it was for him, and not the unknown coach. "We don't do anything. I'll dig up his grave, and then salt and burn his remains."

When Clark quickly brings the shovel up, Dean drops into a defensive stance, but Clark swings over his head. From the corner of his eye, Dean sees two arms coming from out of the tree before the iron disrupts them. Clark looks down at him, eyebrows raised by the crouch Dean's still in.

Feeling a little foolish, and not liking the reaction at all, Dean wants to take Clark down a peg or two. Dean slowly straightens, balls his hands into fists, and takes a step towards the taller man as Clark smiles at him a little. The small quirk of the other man's lips changes Dean's intent, almost without him being aware of it. His posture relaxes a little, and his fists loosen. His thumbs rub at the pads of the fingers on each hand.

"So, Coach, you're going to do all that while fending off a poltergeist that can fling you from a distance? Although, Librarian Brown seems to want to get more up close and personal, now." Watching Dean intently and licking his lips as he does, Clark takes a step forward, too.

Tracking Clark's tongue avidly, Dean closes the remaining gap between them in two strides. "I've handled worse." Sliding his hands into Clark's thick hair, Dean yanks him closer and bites into his mouth. He makes it quick, because the spook is due back shortly, but Dean can't resist the temptation of that almost naturally pouty mouth any longer.

When Dean breaks off the kiss, Clark looks down at him with desire clear on his face. "God, Coach…Jason…I want…so many things. I've never…reacted to anyone like this before."

Pushing down a small twinge of unease at still deceiving Clark, Dean rubs a thumb over the brunet's full bottom lip. "I can give you anything you want – Fuck!"

This time the spirit takes hold of Clark and bashes him into the nearest tree, the one Dean had just been forced against, with enough power that Dean hears the tree groan with the impact. Then, the spook uses its energy to slide Clark up the trunk a good twenty feet, while it hovers ten feet in the air itself, safely out of reach of anything Dean has at hand.

Before Dean can do anything to get Clark down, Dean sees him bend the wrist of the hand still holding the shovel, and suddenly the tool is hurtling through the air to slice neatly through the space the spook is occupying. With the dissipation of the poltergeist, Clark drops to the ground with bone-crushing force.

Running over to see how he is, Dean's amazed when the guy just stands up as if nothing had happened. "Shit, Clark, how did…you know what, never mind. I need to stop letting myself be distracted and get this job done." So saying, he runs back to where the spook had been, scoops up the shovel, and runs back to the grave.

Deans sees that the guy he clocked is gone, but a quick looks doesn't turn him up, so Dean starts digging up…Dean glances quickly at the tombstone to ensure he does have the correct…Charles Brown's…grave. Yep. He doesn't waste any breath on laughing out loud. Instead, he mutters under his breath. "Charlie Brown. Maybe that's why he's so pissed off in his after-life."

"Actually, I think it was because Lucius, the guy you knocked unconscious, was controlling him."

Looking up momentarily, Dean shakes his head. "People can't control ghosts like that."

Shrugging, Clark scans the area all around them both very intently. "They can if they're affected by the meteors and that's the ability they get. You heard Chloe earlier tonight. People get all kinds of unnatural capabilities because of them. Apparently, Lucias has been doing it for a while now, practicing with different ghosts. It's only been recently that he started using this particular ghost to scare people. That's what Lucias was telling me before you hit him with the shovel, anyway."

Dean appreciates the sharp eye Clark is keeping out for any return of the spook, but he can't keep the laugh in this time at the irony of that name. "So, Lucy was controlling Charlie Brown. That does explain why he's so pissed off. Are you going to tell me next that there's a football in this tale somewhere?"

Clark looks uncomprehending for a moment, but then is startled into a smile. In spite of the speed he's shoveling at, Dean draws in a breath at seeing it again. Luckily, he's exerting himself too much to have any anatomy problems at the sight.

Bending back to his task, he only catches the movement of Clark's arm from the corner of an eye a few moments later. "Did you just get rid of the spook again? " At Clark's nod he has to ask him how he managed it.

"I found a rod nearby, and I thought there was a good chance it was made from iron."

Looking up at Clark, and then past him, Dean sees a mausoleum a good distance from them, the light from the full moon glinting off a metal fence. Presumably iron. "You found…yeah, okay." The mysteries are building up around this guy, but Dean decides that he can't do much about it now and the guy hasn't made the slightest move to hurt him.

In fact, Clark's gone out of his way to help; Dean can't think of any of the creatures he deals with doing that. Still, a test or two might be in order. If he gets a chance. Right now, he needs to get the job done and stop thinking about the guy that had saved his life a couple of times already. His effort at focusing isn't helped, though, when Clark steps even closer to where he's digging.

"Coach, I can…I can get that dug before he gets back."

Looking down at the paltry hole of hard-packed dirt he's managed to remove from only one part of the grave so far, Dean shrugs and tosses the shovel to Clark. "Dude, go for it. This is something I've got to see."

Grabbing the shovel form midair, Clark looks at him nervously. Taking a last, quick look around Clark starts digging. Before Dean can properly register the flying dirt, the growing hole, or the blurring motion that is Clark Kent, the job is done.

Blinking disbelievingly, Dean walks over and touches the edges. "Shit! Clark. Dude. Those are some serious shovel skills you have." Shaking off his disbelief for now, Dean grabs his duffle and throws a box of open salt at Clark. He watches him carefully for any signs of discomfort. Seeing none, he brings out some lighter fluid and a Bic for himself. The fact that Clark's handled first iron and now salt isn't definite proof, since they weren't lines, but it'll have to be enough for now.

"Okay. Dump some salt over the remains and then I'll burn the mother—"

Once again, Dean's flying through the air. This time though, before he can be flung into anything, he suddenly drops. Luckily, he lands beside a grave and not on one or more of the many stones throughout the area. Cautiously, he stands back up and limps back towards old Charlie's grave.

"Did you have another iron spear ready, Clark?" Dean looks down into the grave, ready to do his bit, only to see…nothing. Or at least, he doesn't see bones. Instead he sees some fused sand and black ashes. Not even any still-burning remains.

Looking down at the lighter and the lighter fluid he's still holding in his hands – sure he'd dropped the shovel earlier, but not this stuff when it would've done some good – and then back up at Clark. He eases his hand around, toward the small of his back and pulls the silver blade free of its sheath. "How'd you burn him up, Clark?"

"I didn't…" Dean lifts an eyebrow.

"It wasn't like…" Dean lifts the other eyebrow and purses his lips.

"It's…it's none…none of your business."

In spite of his suspicions, Dean almost laughs at the look of discomfort on the other man's face. "Your parents really raised you with an over-abundance of manners, didn't they? Do you ever just say, 'fuck it' with being polite all the time or just taking what you want?" God, no one can be this polite and be evil, but Dean doesn't put the knife away quite yet.

Clark gives him a look that Dean can't quite decipher, but makes him shiver nonetheless. "I never have before, but I…I'm about to."

With no other warning, Dean finds himself pulled close and then molded to the most delicious feeling body he's experience in…possibly ever. He'd been too lost in lust to appreciate it in the alley, but he makes up for it now. Dean slides his free hand everywhere he can reach while Clark tries to discover if Dean still has his tonsils. Finally, Dean finds the edges of the man's flannel and lifts it up so he can untuck the t-shirt below.

Trying to focus past the lust this man makes him feel and remember his suspicions, Dean slides the knife around to the bare skin he's uncovered. Dean doesn't want to hurt the guy if he's as real as he seems, so Dean just lays the blade against the skin. If he's a werewolf or shapeshifter that should be plenty.

Not even a twitch. Not overly surprised, but still relieved, Dean quickly resheathes the blade and throws himself back into the kiss. He pushes both hands back under Clark's shirts and lets them roam.

As soon as Dean's hands touch bare skin, Clark shudders and breaks off the kiss. "Coach…Jason…you feel so good. I don't completely understand why, but I want…I want more."

Dean's hands still. Now that his suspicions are quieted, he's back to feeling guilty for some bizarre reason. As usual, he decides to go with his gut. "Damn it. Clark, I can't…shit, I never have any trouble with this, so I don't know why I am with you, but I can't let you go on believing…" Dean steps back and shoves his hands into his pockets and away from temptation and away from a possible angry right hook. "I'm not Jason Teague. I'm not your coach."

In front of him, Clark goes completely still. Dean's not even sure if he's still breathing. Eyes search his face and Dean tries to hold that intense gaze, even though it's damn uncomfortable to be scrutinized like that. He almost feels like Clark's looking past the surface and finding out all his hidden secrets.

As suddenly as the stillness starts, it stops, and Clark nods his head. "That explains a lot. I'd been wondering why I was suddenly feeling…reacting…to you in a way I never have before. That, plus you calling me 'Dude'…and all the ghost stuff. While it's been seriously cool, it's been hard picturing Coach Teague doing everything we've done today."

Clark smiles at him and Dean's tension disappears completely – or as completely as it ever does…which isn't very much, actually. Until Clark steps in closer, then his tension ratchets back up. "So, what name do I call out while you're f-f…inside me?"

Going rigid all over in surprise at the desire that floods through him at that stuttered question, Dean's mouth opens and closes soundlessly a couple of times. He feels like he's been sucker punched and has no air in his lungs. Finally, he starts to wheeze out his name, but he stops and clears his throat. No way is he ever going to admit to making a sound like that. "Dean. Dean Winchester. You want to…"

Any second he's going to get his balls back and stop acting like a girl. Clark slides a hand down to his ass. "I…want you. I have since our conversation outside the Talon. I just have the feeling that if I don't take a chance now, I won't get another one with you. You'll be gone. So, I'm hoping you'll want to f-fuck me, but if you want it the other way around, then I'm good either way."

No matter how good that big hand feels on his ass, and how obvious it is that he's being teased, Dean still tenses up at the suggestion of him being the one to get fucked.

Clark smiles down at him, the knowing in his gaze at odds with the trembling in the hand on Dean's ass. "Yeah, that's what I figured. So?"

Dean decides to take his balls back right now. "As long as we're clear that it's a one-off, then yeah, but not here. I'm not fucking you without a condom or lube. I've got both back at my car."

Watching Clark carefully, Dean can't read anything in his usually expressive face on his comment about the one-off. Instead, Clark just shrugs. "As I already said, I figured you wouldn't be here long. I still want it, want you."

Nodding, not admitting to feeling anything but relief that Clark gets it, Dean turns to gather up all the supplies. He notices the still open grave. "Shit! We'll have to…" Only it isn't there anymore and Clark is holding the shovel out to him. "One of these days you're going to tell me how you can do that. And what else you can do." It occurs to Dean belatedly that he just implied that they'd have more contact with each other. He doesn't want to compound his mistake, though, by taking it back and appearing cowardly.

Clark nods and smiles. "Probably." In the next second, he's putting Dean down by the Impala. "But, not today."

God, Dean can't even believe the easy power this guy has shown. The thought that he's going to allow Dean to fuck him is really starting to turn Dean on. But…Dean's suspicions still haven't been completely laid to rest. Fumbling open the driver's side door, Dean reaches across to the glove compartment and digs out what he needs, plus something a little extra.

Turning back, he surprises a look of nervousness on Clark's face. Dean's almost glad he isn't as certain as he's been portraying himself to be. Dean, too, is feeling a little unsettled about how deeply he's feeling for this other man. He buries it by getting down to business.

Cupping Clark's face, Dean takes his mouth in a deep kiss while he unstoppers the vial of holy water he'd grabbed out of his glove compartment. He dumps the contents on the back of Clark's neck. When there's no screams of pain from Clark, just a confused murmur, Dean distracts him by fumbling at the fastening to the bigger man's pants. That proof's finally good enough for him. He'd thought it unlikely anyway. Breaking the kiss, Dean kneels in the dirt and slides the pants and boxers down at the same time.

Clark's cock springs free, and Dean's mouth waters at the width of the shaft, capped by an uncut head. He hadn't gotten a chance to look in the alley. Clark makes a move to cover himself with his hands, but Dean grabs them in his own and rubs his thumbs in suggestive circles in each palm.

Dean's glad Clark made the first move this time up on the hill, because Dean might think he's a scared virgin with the way he's acting. Opening his mouth, Dean breathes on the wet head of Clark's cock, then covers only the crown and slides his tongue under the foreskin, rubbing at the slit and then running around the outer edges of the head.

Feeling Clark's legs tremble, Dean helps shift him so the other man can lean back on the car. Clark does, and spreads his legs wider to make more room between them. Dean can't believe how responsive the brunet is. He takes full advantage of it, reaching up to fondle the pendulous balls and tickle at the perineum.

"Dean! I didn't know…it's so…God! Please. D-deeper. Please, Dean! Take…take me in deeper."

Taking a deep breath and stretching his mouth wide, Dean does. He needs to stop playing anyway; it won't do to make this anymore than the fucking it is. He goes down as far as he can and then wraps a hand around the remainder. He sets a hard rhythm that has Clark's balls drawing up quickly. That's the way Dean wants it. Fast. It's just sex after all; there's nothing more to it. Nothing at all.

Slipping a finger into his mouth to get it wet, Dean shoves it deep inside Clark with no warning or ceremony. He's rewarded by Clark's shout and having his mouth filled with come. He swallows quickly.

As soon as Clark's cock stops pulsing streams of come into Dean's mouth, Dean stands and spins him around, pressing a hand between Clark's shoulder blades until his chest is flush against the hood of the car. Lubing up several fingers at once, Dean shoves one back in and fucks it quickly in and out. This is still just sex after all, nothing more. He's done it a dozen times at least with different men, several dozen with different women.

Ignoring Clark's green eyes staring back at him over a shoulder, pretty mouth open and panting, Dean shoves in another finger. Getting off, that's all this is about. It's all it's ever about. He scissors his fingers and ignores the throb in his cock and stops himself from softening his attitude as Clark moans under him and pushes back onto his fingers slightly. He isn't going to let this turn into anything other than sex.

Pulling his fingers out, he undoes his pants, pulls out his cock, rolls on a condom, and slicks himself thoroughly. Lining up, Dean pushes in more gently than he usually does. He pushes until he pops past that strong outer ring of muscle. He freezes when Clark moans, but relaxes when the other man pushes back into him.

"Dean, more! Please. Please, don't stop."

"Fuck, Clark, you beg so pretty. There's no need, though, I have no plans to stop." Grasping the narrow hips under him, Dean thrusts his hips until he's fully seated. Clark's pleasure filled moan lets him know that the other man needs no adjustment time. So much for his worries that this is the guy's first time. Although, why he'd worry about it, he's not sure.

Starting a steady rhythm, designed to get himself off, just not too fast, Dean is only vaguely aware of the caresses he's started stroking Clark's lower back and flanks with. He looks down and moans at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of Clark's tight ass. Sliding a hand from Clark's hip, Dean teases at the outer edges of the hole his cock is thrusting into. Clark moans again and pushes back against Dean even harder than before. Then, Dean's eyes are caught by the motion one of Clark's arms is making under his body.

"Jesus, Clark, are you trying to come again?" Reaching under, Dean's surprised to feel that Clark's almost fully hard again. "Fuck, you have a fast recovery time."

Without conscious thought, Dean slows down his thrusts and bends his knees a bit to get a slightly different angle, putting his hands back on Clark's hips so he can better guide him to the best angle and rhythm. Clark jerks under him and moans long and loud. Dean smiles in response. "Found your sweet spot, did I? Let's see if I can do it again."

Judging by Clark's wild response, Dean manages to hit it on every second or third thrust. When Dean feels himself getting close, he reaches under Clark again and wraps his hand around the one Clark already has there. He just rests his hand on Clark's, but lets his thumb slide around and around the wet crown of the other man's cock.

"C'mon, Clark. Come with me, you beautiful bastard. I want to feel you clenching around me as I come in your tight ass. That's it, tighten around me even more. God, Clark! C'mon, you can do it. Yeah! That's it. Do it."

Feeling Clark clench around him and hearing him moan, sends Dean over the edge and he throws his head back as he empties his cock into his lover. Lover? Shit. Dean shudders even more and pulls Clark's hips back into his groin as his cock gives a couple more weak pulses at the thought of the intimacy of that term. Slumping over Clark's spent form, Dean places a kiss between his shoulder blades.

Dean freezes at the telltale caress and can't prevent the soft, "Shit!" from escaping this time. Quickly, he backs away and pulls his pants up, concentrating on fastening them.

Clark straightens his own clothes and takes a step towards Dean, who backs up a step. The crushed look on Clark's face has him instantly relenting, and he steps towards the other man, placing a quick kiss on those full lips.. "Dude, Clark, I told you that I don't do this. I don't do relationships. It's supposed to be a one-off only."

Dean darts a glance at the Impala, but Clark is in the way. Maybe if he maneuvers him around, Dean can slip into his baby and take off now that the job is done. Dean's breath hitches at the thought of doing that for some reason and he has an ache in the region of his heart. Probably the pie from earlier. It's got to be the pie.

Searching his face, Clark bites his lips until a more determined look crosses his face. Dean's already learning to be wary of those looks. "I get that you don't do relationships, what do you have in your life, then?"

Dean searches the earnest face for signs of mocking, but finds none, just interest. "My dad and I hunt bugaboos like the one from tonight, most much worse, and I have one-night stands. That's it. A one-night stand is all I want from you, too. I didn't lie to you, and you're no chick that needs to be coddled after sex." Dean doesn't like the desperate note that's crept into his voice. Also, his efforts to maneuver Clark away from the door aren't working.

Clark shrugs his shoulders and stuffs his hands in his pockets, watching him almost warily. Then, a small smile quirks his lips up and he leans towards Dean a little. "True. I'm definitely not a chick. So, what other creatures do you and your dad hunt, the ones you said are worse than the poltergeist we fought tonight?"

Clark's lean changes into taking a step closer, but this time Dean doesn't back away at all, although he watches warily himself. "Werewolves, witches, demons, other things you wouldn't know about."

"Vampires?" Watching Clark take another step forward, Dean again stays put, his heart starting to speed up again.

Feeling like a deer caught in a car's headlights, Dean takes a shuddering breath as Clark moves the final step that puts his body within just barely touching distance of Dean's. "No. Vampires are extinct."

"Oh." Clark brings a hand up and cups Dean's face. Dean closes his eyes and rubs into the touch.

Opening his eyes, Dean looks into Clark's. "I'm going to leave in the morning."

Nodding again, Clark lowers his head stopping just shy of Dean's lips. "I know, but we still have the rest of tonight."

For some reason, Clark's calm acceptance of him leaving doesn't sit well with Dean. Then, Clark leans down a little and runs a tongue along the outer edges of Dean's lips. "God, Clark!" Dean's not sure how he's feeling, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have this guy around sometimes. "I…we…could use someone with your skills…I mean, abilities…to help us hunt."

Dean moans when Clark nuzzles their lips together and he grips the taller man's biceps. Embarrasingly, he moans again when Clark then pulls back a short distance. "Hunt? With you and your dad?" When Dean nods, Clark continues. "Is hunting all I'd do with you?"

Shrugging, Dean looks into the eyes so close to his. "I suppose, if you were there, that you and I could have sex once in a while. To fuck the stress out, of course."

Standing so close, Dean could feel the shudder work its way down the big body. "Yeah, Dean. I'd like that. I can see making a difference like that. When…when could I join you?"

"God, Clark! You really jump in with both feet. You should definitely finish college first."

"College? That's years away. How about when I finish high school, instead? It's hard enough thinking about waiting that long, even though it's less than a year. I wish I could start sooner."

Feeling as if he's been doused in cold water, Dean jerks back. "High school? Shit! Clark, you're still a teenager? Fuck, that explains why you reacted like you did after the alley. And just now, I had the feeling what we were doing was new to you, but you felt so good and your reactions were so…Fuck! I don't believe this. You're younger than my kid brother. You're just a kid yourself."

Eyes flashing, Clark moves until he and Dean are within touching distance again. "No, I'm really not, Dean. I'm over the age of consent in Kansas and I'm more than old enough to take care of myself and make decisions about my life." Grabbing Dean, Clark wraps his arms loosely around him and just holds on.

"Clark…"

"No, Dean. My age isn't a reason to change your mind about anything. I'm not that young. I might not be a hunter like you, but I've had my share of run-ins with impossible creatures thanks to the meteors around here. I've been saving people from them since I was fourteen, and you heard about some of the weird powers they've had from Chloe. Maybe they aren't in league with demons and witches, but it hasn't been easy either. I've carried a heavy load of responsibility for a long time now, things you can't even dream of. I've had to grow up fast to handle it."

Dean feels himself weakening. He knows all about growing up early. He tries to shore up his defenses so he can resolutely turn Clark's offer down, but Clark chooses that moment to run a hand down the middle of his back and caressing the base of his spine. His refusal dies in his throat before he can utter it. The caress feels good, and Dean hears himself agreeing, at least partly. "You've got to finish high school, Clark. You'll always feel off about it if you don't. Besides, it'll give you a chance to talk to your parents about it. By the summer, they'll be more prepared."

Slowly, Clark nods his head, hand slipping down to Dean's ass and kneading it, making Dean fight to stay focused. He doesn't say anything to stop the younger man, though. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense. Also, I've been given something to do by my biological father, a task. I've been doing my best to ignore it because he's crazy, but maybe, if I do it, I can start off with a clean slate by the end of the school year."

Dean's curiosity is aroused, especially by Clark's tone of voice. "What kind of task?"

Clark sighs. "An impossible one, but that's my biological father for you. He wants me to do it all, and have it done by yesterday. I usually ignore what he wants, but that doesn't always work out so well. So, for once I won't. I'll confront the task he gave me head on, like you inspired me to do tonight. You came to town to get that ghost, and you did. You don't shirk from anything, do you Dean?"

Uncomfortable with the praise, Dean just shrugs. "So, what'll it be kid? It won't be easy, you know? Even with what you can do, my dad'll insist you go through all the same training I did. Should I tell my Dad to expect you, or not?

Clark pulls him in closer for a tight hug and then loosens his grip again to smile down at Dean. "You can't scare me away, Dean. I'll join you and your dad in June after school lets out. You know how fast I am, though, so don't be surprised if I track you down during a vacation or two before then. Meanwhile…we have the rest of the night and I have an awesome loft in my family's barn."

Staring up into the intense eyes, Dean isn't sure what just happened here. He knows he's agreeing to it, though, whatever it is. Maybe it isn't just sex after all.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Last of the fics I wrote for the Lightning Round of help_haiti. The donator was pinkfinity and her request was for a Jason/Clark story, preferably one in which Jason was really Dean.  
> A/N #2: Super, amazing beta was sue_dreams.  
> A/N #3: I learned something new with this fic. I had no idea that the word brunette was meant only for woman. If you're writing about a brown-haired man, you use the word brunet. Weird, and it still looks wrong.


End file.
